


Another One

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Impregnation, Married Couple, Pregnancy Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke already have three kids, but Clarke wants more.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 409
Collections: Bellarke smut





	Another One

“You can call us if you need anything,” Bellamy says, transferring a wriggling one-year-old into his sister’s arms. Octavia meets Clarke’s eye, and Clarke shakes her head pointedly. He says it every time, even though he should know by now that Octavia and Lincoln are perfectly capable of handling the three girls on their own. And it’s good practice for when Octavia finally pops a few months from now. 

“ _Do not,_ ” Clarke mouths over Bellamy’s shoulder. Octavia raises an eyebrow, lip curling in an uncontrolled smirk. Bellamy looks to Clarke, noticing the exchange, and Clarke meets his disapproving look with an innocent smile.

Listen, she loves their kids as much as he does, but all she wants for tonight is to have her husband all to herself. She does not want Octavia calling up every five minutes to ask menial questions like if the girls are allowed to have ice-cream. Even if they’re not allowed to have ice-cream, it’s basically Octavia’s job as the cool aunt to give it to them.

“Don’t worry,” Octavia says. “I am not going to even bother trying to call, I don’t want to interrupt you mid fu—” she glances at Thalia, who’s now grasping at her aunt’s hair. “F-U-C-K.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Nice save,” he says sarcastically.

“What?” Octavia says defensively. “She can’t spell.”

Clarke grabs Bellamy’s hand before he can start an argument with his sister, and eat into their alone time even more. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s say goodbye to the girls and go.”

“Ow! Thalia!” Octavia says, trying to extricate her hair from the baby’s fist. Clarke grins. Octavia will learn to keep her hair up soon enough.

Clarke pulls Bellamy into the living room, where Lincoln is sitting between Dylan and Noah, Frozen 2 already playing on the TV.

“You started without me?” Octavia says, pretending to be offended as she joins the others on the couch.

“Noah, Dylan, Mommy and Daddy are going now,” Clarke says.

“Bye!” Noah says, not even looking away from the screen. Frozen is much more interesting to their five-year-old than her parents are. Clarke gets it. Dylan, however, runs over, and Bellamy scoops her up, raining kisses on her curly head. All three girls look so much like their dad, with dark eyes and curly hair, and soft brown skin. Clarke feels a surge of fondness for all four of them.

“Bye, sweetie,” Bellamy says. “We’ll pick you up in the morning, okay?”

Dylan nods and Bellamy sets her feet back on the ground. Clarke bends down to hug her daughter, and kiss her on the forehead.

“Be good for your aunt and uncle, okay?”

“Okay,” Dylan agrees. Clarke gives her a nudge, and she hurries back to the sofa. There’s a chorus of _I love you’s_ , and _get out of the way Mom,_ when Clarke refuses to leave without a hug from her eldest daughter. Lincoln pauses the movie so they can say goodbye properly, then Clarke and Bellamy are out the door and back in their car.

Bellamy drives slow—too slow for Clarke’s liking. And okay, he’s doing the speed limit, but Clarke wishes he’d care less about road rules and more about the fact that his wife needs to be fucked as soon as possible. She’s soaked through the lingerie she put on while he was getting the girls ready, having had this on her mind all day, and she’s barely able to sit still in the passenger seat.

“We’re almost there,” Bellamy says, turning into their street, sensing her desperation. But then, his knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel, his posture stiff, the hand on the gearshift tapping anxiously—perhaps he’s talking to himself.

They both knew having kids would change their sex life—they’re less spontaneous, more careful, their trysts less frequent. They don’t _want_ each other less—Clarke is happy to know she can still get him hard just by showing him a bit of cleavage, and she’s turned on by the simple act of watching him be a good father to their daughters. So, all the time.

But Noah and Dylan have both almost caught them in the act, wandering into their parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night, while Clarke and Bellamy try to cover it up, and pretend like they’re not both horny and unsatisfied. They’ve agreed both girls are too young for the sex conversation. Plus, it’s kind of a mood killer. Being caught by Bellamy’s college roommate when they decided to fuck in his bed was hot—being caught by your own kids is not.

So they steal moments where they can, always quick and passionate, and when they can, they drop the girls off at their aunt’s or at their grandma’s, so they can have a night to themselves.

They hurry inside, and Clarke feels like a giddy teenager, sneaking around with her hot older boyfriend. His lips are on hers as soon as the door is shut behind them, pressing her up against it. His hot, frantic kisses prove he’s been anticipating this just as much as she has. And yet, even though it feels like his hands are burning holes through her sweater, they make no move to do anything but kiss each other, and soon his tongue turns languid and teasing. Clarke’s cunt is throbbing, and she knows his cock is hard and aching—but they have time tonight.

Bellamy eventually pulls his mouth away from Clarke’s, and rests his forehead against hers. “You want to eat something?” he asks.

Clarke shakes her head. “I need you now,” she whispers. “We can eat later.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. Clarke can hear the desire in his voice. “And where would you like me to ravage you?”

“Living room first,” Clarke says. “And then every other room after that.” Sometimes she misses the freedom of being able to fuck her husband wherever and whenever she wants to.

He drags her to the living room, both kicking their shoes off as they go, then Bellamy falls onto the couch, pulling Clarke onto his lap. They’re both grinning as Clarke lowers her mouth to his.

“I love you,” Bellamy murmurs against her lips.

“I love you too,” Clarke whispers back. She pulls back, enjoying the heated look in his eyes as she drags her sweater over her head and discards it, leaving her in a bra made of sheer red lace, her hard nipples visible through the fabric.

“God,” Bellamy groans. He leans forward to bury his mouth in her cleavage. Clarke giggles, wrapping her arms around his head to squash him closer. She’s well aware her tits are his favourite part of her body, and she loves using it against him.

She lets him go, and he looks up at her, hungry for her. She bites her lip, heart beating faster. Now seems as good a time as any to ask him—perhaps it’s wrong to wait until he’s so horny, and maybe she should’ve asked him earlier, when he was in his right frame of mind. She hopes his answer will be the same either way.

“Bellamy,” she says slowly.

“Yeah, baby?”

She kisses him, then grinds against him. She can feel heat pulsing between her legs. “I want you to make me pregnant again.”

Bellamy groans. “Clarke,” he says. “Are you sure?”

She nods enthusiastically. Of course she’s sure. She loves being pregnant with his baby—loves the visual reminder that he fucked her and came in her, loves that everyone else knows. She loves seeing him with their kids, so tender and loving. Watching single women fawn over him in the grocery store, then watch their utter jealousy when they realise he belongs to Clarke—made even better when she’s obviously pregnant. Plus, she knows he gets off on it too, on knowing she has his child growing inside her. She loves how possessive and protective he gets.

And of course, she loves their kids—they always wanted a big family, and she’s not done yet. They never really agreed on exactly _how_ many kids they would have, just that they would discuss it and stop when they’re ready. Sometimes Clarke isn’t sure she’ll _ever_ be ready.

“I’m sure,” she says. “Please.”

“Thalia is barely one,” Bellamy reminds her. “You don’t want to wait until she’s a little older?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I want your baby inside me now,” she murmurs, dropping her lips to his ear. His breath hitches. “Don’t you want a little baby boy?”

“You know I don’t care about that,” he says. But Clarke knows he would secretly love a son. “And what’s gonna happen after baby number four, huh? How long until you’re desperate for me to get you pregnant for a fifth time? Everyone is going to think we don’t know how to use birth control.”

“I don’t care,” Clarke says. To be fair, three kids in five years is already a lot. But Clarke can’t help it. “I want them all to know how good you give it to me.”

“You just want to show off,” Bellamy says.

“Uh huh,” Clarke nods, smirking. “Want everyone to know you’re mine. Want them to know how good we are at making babies.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. “We can start trying again.” 

Clarke grins as she kisses him again. He wasn’t hard to convince—he must have already been thinking about it too. She pushes his shirt up, fingers trailing up his stomach. He helps her remove his shirt, and then he’s lifting her off his lap, flipping their positions so she’s lying on her back on the couch.

He unbuttons her jeans, kissing the stretch marks on her soft stomach. She’s a little chubbier now than she was when they first got married—he is too. But he still worships her, still looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He tugs her jeans down her thighs with some effort, and pulls her socks off too, admiring her in her sexy red lingerie.

It took Clarke a while to feel confident in her body again after Noah, but Bellamy never stopped wanting her. Never flinched at any change of her body. He kisses her stomach again now, and Clarke giggles. She wonders if he’s already imagining her fat with their fourth child.

She slips her fingers into his hair, playing with his curls. In turn, he presses his fingers against the red lace covering her cunt, and her clit throbs fiercely in response. He strokes her between her legs, moving his mouth up to her breasts, pulling the lace down so he can kiss her skin.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whines. She wants to be patient, really. But she needs him so much, and the light, tender way he’s touching her isn’t enough.

“Clarke, baby,” he moans back. “Can’t wait for you to be pregnant again. Haven’t stopped thinking about it since Thalia was born.”

“Why’d you argue then?” Clarke asks breathily.

“I wanted to make sure you really wanted it,” he says. He moves his fingers from her slit to hook into the sides of her panties, and starts dragging them down. “I was trying to be sensible. Didn’t want you to make decisions just because you’re horny.”

“But you really want another baby too, right?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy gently slips Clarke’s panties over her ankles and tosses them to the floor, then leans over her again, bringing his face back to her eyelevel.

“Yes,” he promises.

“You’re not just turned on by the thought of me being pregnant?”

He smirks. “That too,” he whispers. He kisses her. “I love when you’re all swollen with my baby,” he says. Her slips a hand under her back and unclips her bra. “Tits all big and sensitive. Love making sure everyone knows I still know how to fuck you good.”

“Me too,” Clarke breathes. “Please, Bellamy. Fuck me. Put your baby in me, please.”

“Okay, baby,” he says. He sits up, fumbling with the fly of his jeans in his haste to get them off. He sheds his pants and boxers, lets his hard cock spring free, dripping with precum. Clarke’s pussy pounds in anticipation. God, he’s so hot. And he’s all hers.

Clarke reaches for him as he kneels back on the couch. She makes a tiny fist around his huge cock, then licks the tip, gathering the taste of him on her tongue. Even though their sex life is mostly made up of quick blow jobs and hand jobs, she can’t get enough of having him in her mouth.

Bellamy tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a strangled moan. “Fuck, baby. That’s not how this works. I gotta come in your pussy if you want a baby.”

Clarke nods, and she releases his cock, before surging up to kiss him, her arms wrapping around him. He lowers her down onto her back again, kissing her, his arms cradling her body.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, his cock pressing against her slit. Clarke nods. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, baby.”

“Please,” Clarke begs. He sheathes himself inside her, and she gasps. “Yes, Bellamy. Fill me up. Put a baby in me.”

He fucks her hard, like they’ve both been aching for since the last time they were alone for this long—three weeks ago now. They cling to each other, both wrapped up in the idea of Clarke being pregnant, the thought of it causing them both to spiral quickly to the brink of orgasm.

“Come on, baby,” Bellamy coaxes roughly. “Need you to come on my cock. Wanna knock you up so bad, but you gotta come first.”

“Uh huh,” Clarke agrees absently. She’s almost there.

“I’m gonna come in you,” Bellamy grunts. “Can’t wait until you’re so pregnant you can barely walk. Tits so big they ache. Nipples dripping with milk.”

That does it. She cries out as she comes, shuddering against him, fingernails digging into his back. He moans as she feels him release inside her, his seed filling her up, and she doesn’t know whether it triggers a second orgasm, or whether she’s still going from the first.

“Oh my god,” she groans. She can’t remember the last time she came like that. Probably when they were trying for Thalia.

“Good, huh?” Bellamy murmurs, kissing her cheek. He’s holding her, his cock still inside her, keeping her cunt full of his come. Clarke just nods and hopes he understands.

They lay like that until Clarke can’t take his weight any longer, and gently pushes him off her. They both sit up, but Bellamy is quick to bundle her up in his arms again. She’s not even pregnant yet and he’s already acting more protective of her than usual. Or maybe it’s just because they finally have the time to just be with each other.

“I love you,” Clarke says.

“I love you too,” Bellamy returns, kissing her hair.

“Do you already have a list of baby names?”

“You know I do.”

“Okay, well we better make sure I’m good and pregnant then,” Clarke smiles. “You can fuck me in the kitchen this time, so we’re close to the fridge for a snack afterwards.”

“Okay,” Bellamy laughs.

When they’re done in the kitchen, they head to the shower, and then go one last, slow, soft round in their bed, before they fall asleep, sleeping into the afternoon the next day, with no kids to wake them early in the morning.

Nine months later, they come home with another beautiful baby girl they both adore.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the son you wanted,” Clarke teases.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t care about that.”

Clarke ignores him. “I guess we’ll just have to try again for a boy.”


End file.
